Time Off
by kirensk
Summary: Cutesy Medic/Heavy oneshot.


Disclaimer: I own nothing of TF2.

The teams rarely had time to rest and relax, so when they got that precious time (usually at night, though sleep was _very_ light), they made sure to savor it.

It was one of those slower nights where the RED team had more than a couple of hours to recuperate, just as BLU did. Apparently there was a bit of an unspoken truce going on, as neither team had bothered to send out anything for quite a while. The past few days had been rough, moreso than usual, though there didn't seem to be a reason why. RED and BLU's battles tended to do that - increase in intensity, peak, crash, and then simmer down a bit before starting up again. And so, RED's resident Medic and Heavy were occupying one of the vacant rooms in Steel, the former attempting some sort of mini-experiment and the latter simply sprawled on the floor, hands behind his head. Having already asked the doctor what he was up to - something to do with a "accelerated healing" - he was content to just stare up at the ceiling and listen to his companion work. Or, at least, _try_ to work.

"Scheisse," came a mutter, along with a very small tinkly sound of glass breaking. The Medic abruptly grabbed whatever he had in his hands and threw it against the wall. The outburst spurred Heavy to push himself up. The doctor was normally relatively composed, but he did have a bit of a problem with impatience.

"Hm? What is problem?" the larger man questioned in his hard Russian accent. Medic turned toward him with a sigh. "Ah. Forget it." He wasn't about to explain what he'd been working on in specifics - not that Heavy wasn't intelligent, far from it, he was quite a bit smarter than most would assume - the German simply knew he didn't have much interest in medical science. Taking a few steps toward the other man, he knelt down beside him, patting him on the chest. "It vould probably not vork anyvay." A muscular arm found its way around the doctor, pushing him down onto that massive chest. "Maybe. Maybe not." This brought a grin to Medic's face, and he quickly drew himself closer to the far more muscular body, listening to the deep breaths. It was a sight rarely seen in their world - gentle affection, a mix of platonic and romantic. The rest of the team knew of Heavy and Medic's close friendship, but probably didn't suspect it ran any deeper than that. Even if they did, it was unlikely anyone would bring it up out of fear of invoking the Russian's wrath. "You are good doctor." A nuzzle planted on the head of the German. Medic snorted a bit at the statement, angling his face upwards to counter with a brisk peck on the chin. "I try, mein kamerad. But, euh, perhaps I should get more zupplies -- eh --"

Medic was not getting out of Heavy's grasp, no. He'd wrapped both arms around the doctor and pulled him upward so that he lay atop his body. "No, doctor stay _here_!" the Russian announced, not intending to let his prize slip away. The other man writhed weakly under the firm hold, only half-attempting, before exhaling dramatically and slumping all of his weight upon Heavy's chest. "Ja, you vin again, friend!" A gloved finger reached to trail along Heavy's exposed upper arm, causing the skin to prickle up. He was rewarded with a slow petting across the back - more like an indiscriminate massage from someone with power like Heavy. And yet, the Russian could be as harmless and gentle as a kitten when the time called for it. Namely: getting it on.

It was one of the many things that drew the doctor to the man. Sure, he'd been paired up with other bodyguards, but none did the job as well as Heavy. And none had been as good at being a comrade. Not to mention his _physique_! The doctor had never seen a man with so much raw power, and as a man of medicine, it intrigued him greatly. Medic crawled upward, closer to his partner's face, placing playfully soft kisses on his mouth as Heavy shifted to the side, still embracing him and stroking his coated back. "You are going to keep me avake," the doctor teased, as if still intent on continuing his project, eliciting a chortle from Heavy. "That is plan."

"Is zat so?" Medic retorted, shoulders jerking taut as the Russian nipped at his neck before smothering it with kisses. Heavy could actually get rather cuddly when the two were around and alone, yet another charming quality - amusing at the same time. The man was tough as nails and yet he showed Medic his tender side, as the German reciprocated. Quite a marvel, the amount of trust put into their relationship.

The floor was uncomfortable. They were used to sleeping on hard ground, sure, but it always bothered the Medic, who could be a bit of a control freak at times. He groaned, annoyed, pushing himself up with one arm. "Zis vill not vork eizer!" he exclaimed, clearly a little fed up. Heavy tilted his head questioningly before rising - and then held up a finger, gesturing for the other man to wait as he strolled out of the room. And when the Russian returned, he was carrying a thin blanket, small and tattered. He waved it out wordlessly before placing it carefully on the ground, lining the edges up precisely with the wall, before turning back to the doctor and holding a hand out.

And the German began to laugh, almost hysterically, before leaping toward Heavy and tackling him atop the flimsy sheet.

They were indeed kept up all night.


End file.
